


The Stolen Boy's Story

by MCX (AcesOfSpade)



Series: M(arvel) C(inematic) X(-Men): Phase One [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Brainwashing, Dark, Human Experimentation, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Torture, Memory Alteration, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:28:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcesOfSpade/pseuds/MCX
Summary: Schlaf Kindchen schlaf. Der Vater hüt't die Schaf. Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein. Da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf Kindchen schlaf.That was the last thing he ever heard his mother say before they were separated. Now, it's the only thing keeping him from completely losing himself.





	1. Our Story Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Probably no one is even gonna read this, but meh. I had an idea last night that has taken me two days and six hours worth of research on certain aspects of Marvel, both comic and cinematic, to make sure it seems legit and realistic to the MCU. This is probably going to take over my free time, as I've got so much of it all planned out and ready to be turned into chapters and stories. 
> 
> If you do read this, thank you for giving this a chance. I know the Avengers/X-Men Cinematic fusion trope is done to death, but I'm pouring my heart and soul into this so please read it?

_Schlaf Kindchen schlaf. Der Vater hüt't die Schaf. Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein. Da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf Kindchen schlaf ._

 

Those words, that melody… That was the last thing his Mama ever said to him, right before the scary men in uniforms came to the place they were staying to take them away. Mama sang to him as he was taken away from her and Papa, tears streaming down her face. He never saw her again after that, nor had he seen his Papa. All he had seen before the world went black was the look of pure terror on his Mama’s face as they were taken away from each other.

 

The next thing he remembers is waking up to burning. It took him a few moments to realize _he_ was what was burning, to feel the tiny pricks of heat against the flesh of his arm as someone carved numbers into his skin:

 

_24005_

 

He didn’t know what that number meant right then, but he assumed it was something bad.

 

“ _Mama? Papa? Wo bin ich? Was ist los?_ ” he called out, voice hoarse. Had he been screaming? He didn’t remember screaming.

 

“ _Stille, Kind_ ,” he heard someone say. “ _Im Moment gibt es nichts zu befürchten, einfach nur entspannen,_ ” he said, sounding at least a little assuring to the frantic boy.

 

“ _Was ist los?_ ” the boy repeated, unable to see the man who was speaking to him.

 

The boy never got an answer, just a menacing laugh that he would have burned in the back of his memory for years to come. Everything went black again, his body going numb. Whatever was happening to him, he’d get through it. He knew he would. His Mama told him he was strong, that he could survive anything. Was she talking about this? Being taken by the Third Reich? Because he’s sure that was what happened. Him and Mama and Papa were hiding, trying to stay away from the Reich. They were targets, enemies to the Reich for the simple fact of their Jewish faith. He never understood why that was considered a bad thing. He still didn’t know.

* * *

_Schlaf Kindchen schlaf. Der Vater hüt't die Schaf. Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein. Da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf Kindchen schlaf._

 

When the little boy woke up again, he was in a different room. It was bigger, much bigger and held more people. His arm still tingled where the numbers were burned into his skin, though his hands were tied down, preventing him from rubbing the area to soothe the burn like Mama always taught him to do.

 

He could see a figure coming towards him out of the corner of his eye, getting bigger and bigger with each passing second. This man was older than he was, maybe as old as his Mama and Papa. He had a stern face, his nose taking up a lot of his face. His eyes were hidden behind thick, black glasses, straw-blond hair slicked away from his face. He was scary looking, at least to the little kid strapped to a table of some kind. He had a menacing smirk on his face that sent shivers down the kid’s spine, which grew wider when he noticed the child was awake.

 

“Ah, wonderful,” the man almost purred, “24005 is awake.” That seemed to catch the attention of someone else, as 24005 heard another set of footsteps shuffle over to him.

 

The other man had a face like a skeleton, all sharp angles and pasty coloured. The shark-like grin on his face unsettled 24005, making him whimper in fear.

 

“Oh no, have we scared you?” Skeleton Man asked mockingly, smirking widely. “Do not worry, 24005. There is more where that came from.”

 

“That’s not my-,” 24005 tried to say, only to feel an electric current run through his neck. _No talking_ he noted to himself when his brain was clear enough to process thought instead of pain.

 

“It is the only identification you will need here,” Glasses Man told him flatly. “You are no longer a child, you are one of many subjects.”

 

24005’s eyes widened, though he knew now that talking was a bad idea. What was going to happen to him?

 

“Sleep well, 24005,” Skeleton Man cooed, pressing some sort of trigger somewhere that stuck a needle into 24005’s arm, making him slowly black out again. “You will need your rest.”


	2. Life's Many Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24005's life has become a series of routines.

24005\. That was his name now, as Glasses Man had so flatly told him when he’d first woken up on the table. There weren’t many people he interacted with to correct for it to matter. He was alone, unless he was with Skeleton Man. He didn’t like being alone with Skeleton Man, because everything went fuzzy and he felt like he was dying. At least, he assumed that was what dying felt like. Every inch of his body was on fire, a fire so strong it seeped into his bones and ignited them as well. There was no relief for the fire, even after he was sent back to his cell. The fire kept burning under his skin, tingling painfully as if to tell him there was more to come.

 

When he was sent back to his cell, 24005 had time to think. He didn’t have much to think about, all things considered. What would a seven year old prisoner of war have to think about, anyway? He didn’t understand what was going on around him; he just knew his Mama and Papa were gone, and he was being watched by two very scary men that liked to hurt him. He did what he was told, not wanting to feel the electricity in his neck ever again. Once had been enough; the men proved their point very effectively: do as we say, and you will be spared.

 

Slowly, 24005 forgot his actual name, the one his Mama gave him. Was it Max? Or was it Erik? The days of being affectionately called one of the two by his Mama and Papa had long ended, replaced with barks of ‘24005’ to get his attention.

 

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he was taken here. Minutes and hours and days blurred together, with no indication as to the time of day or day of the year. 24005’s days were marked by types of pain: once a day was the fire, once a day was burning cold, and once a day was prickly numbness. Always in that order, like clockwork. He got small breaks between the pains, though he’d lost all sense of time from the pains. When he was in his cell, alone, he found himself blacking out, drifting into a dreamless sleep as he waited for the next pain to begin.

 

After each pain, 24005 was given half a glass of water and some bread crust, an obvious attempt to give him the bear-minimum nutrients he needed to survive the next pain. He’d become considerably smaller since arriving under the care of the scary men. He was small before, but now if one were to look they’d see all of his bones, pressed against his skin as if trying to escape.

 

Life with the men became simple for 24005. Everything had a routine, and he knew what was coming next for him. There were no surprises, just routine pains and scraps of food. That had to go on for at least a year, 24005 wagered, before something else happened.

 

After a year of pains, it seemed the scary men weren’t getting the results they were hoping for. 24005 didn’t know what those results were, but apparently he wasn’t exhibiting any. In an attempt to achieve the results he wanted, Skeleton Man increased the intensity of the pains, sometimes mixing them together. Life became a new routine, though it was unpredictable. 24005 would be taken at the same times each day, but what awaited him on that table was a mystery. Would it be one pain? Or some combination of pains? There was no pattern to it; it was completely random.

 

24005 lost track of how long this new routine continued for. Skeleton Man seemed pleased by the results of this new routine, which only made the pains more intense. Skeleton Man thought the pains would work at higher strengths, but the same random combinations. Then, one day, the pains stopped. 24005 had been taken from his cell as he usually was, but instead of being tied down to the table, he was blindfolded and loaded onto a plane. Where was he going? What was happening?

 

The flight wasn’t long, but it was menacingly silent save the sounds of the airplane itself. The blindfold was removed once 24005 was shoved into a _new_ cell, this one containing people.

 

There were five other people in the cell, all much older than 24005 and wearing various world military uniforms. One of them, a tall man with a curly black mustache, knelt in front of 24005 and frowned.

 

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” he muttered. “I knew the Germans were soulless, but this kid cannot be more than ten years old!”

 

Another of the soldeirs, with a bushy orange mustache, knelt in front of 24005 as well. “Christ, you’re right,” he mumbled, eyeing 24005 carefully. “What’s your name, kid?”

 

24005 didn’t say anything at first, not sure how to answer. “I-I don’t remember,” he decided on, his voice almost too scratchy to be understood. “They call me 24005,” he explained, showing them the numbers burned into his forearm. “Are you going to hurt me too?” he asked anxiously. His green-grey eyes were full of terror and uncertainty. He hadn’t met anyone besides Skeleton Man and Glasses Man; maybe these were new people that were going to make him suffer through new pains.

 

“Hell no,” the only clean-shaven man shook his head seriously. “I ain’t lettin’ them assholes touch you as long as I can,” he promised, looking 24005 straight in the eyes. 24005 nodded back, believing him for now.

 

“Barnes, language,” Bushy Mustache chided. “He’s right though; we’re gonna mak sure they don’t hurt you. You’re too young to be going through all of this.”

 

24005 just nodded, curling up in the corner of the cell to fall asleep.

* * *

Life became another new routine, this time with more people. 24005 would go with Barnes and Bushy Mustache in the morning to sort really big pieces of metal, then to Curly Mustache, Patchy Mustache, and Beard Guy in the afternoon to start putting stuf together like a really hard puzzle. It wasn’t easy, any of it. His hands were cut and bleeding almost constantly, but the men kept their promise: if anyone tried to hurt 24005, they got in the way and took the hit for him. He hated seeing them suffer like that, but he knew he wouldn’t survive the hits they were taking.

 

24005’s last day with the men was scary. Barnes had been sick for a while, something called ‘pneumonia’ apparently. He’d started talking back to the men with the guns, though only from within the cell. The men with the guns weren’t allowed to go into the cell without permission, so Barnes taunted them.

 

Barnes had chosen the worst moment to start taunting the men with the guns that day. Just as they were being collected for their morning duties, Barnes started talking back to the men with the guns. Since they had permission to enter the cell, they attacked Barnes and knocked him to the ground. 24005 could only stand in horror as he watched the men with the guns hurt Barnes, a new sensation bubbling in his chest he would later learn was called _anger_. With a startled cry, 24005 threw his hand forward from where Curly Mustache was hiding him, fingers spread as if wanting Barnes to grab his hand.

 

Instead of what 24005 was expecting, something unexplainable happened: the metal bars of the cell began to warp and crumple in on themselves as if they were straw, creaking and groaning. The badges on the men with guns’ shirts seemed to dig into their skin, causing them to cry out in pain as they collapsed to the ground. Barnes got to his feet as fast as he could, rushing over to 24005 with a frown.

 

“Hey kid, what’d you do?” Barnes asked, not upset, just confused.

 

“I don’t know,” 24005 whispered, looking down at his hand in horror. “I don’t know,” he repeated a little louder.

 

It didn’t take long for word to reach Skeleton Man about what 24005 had done. Within the hour, he was blindfolded and returned to Skeleton Man’s base, as he had refered to it. He was immiedately strapped down to _his_ table, the blindfold removed to reveal Skeleton Man’s shark-like grin.

 

“Wonderful,” he purred. “It seems 24005 has passed the test,” he mused to Glasses Man, who was standing a few feet away.

 

“Wonderful indeed,” Glasses Man nodded. “Now the real fun begins.”


	3. A Breakthrough

_Schlaf Kindchen schlaf. Der Vater hüt't die Schaf. Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein. Da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf Kindchen schlaf ._

 

24005 kept repeating the words to himself over and over again in his mind, trying to drown out the pain and exhaustion he was enduring. It became harder and harder to remember the words as Glasses Man forced him to learn the extents of his newfound abilities. 24005 didn’t know how to access these powers again, and he’d told Glasses Man as much but he kept insisting 24005 try to access them. No matter what Glasses Man did, 24005 couldn’t recreate what he had done at the weapons facility. No amount of pain could unlock 24005’s abilities, at least of the physical variety.

 

After weeks of frustration, Glasses Man tried a different approach. When 24005 was brought to the table that day, something was different. There was another person in the room, though they were masked from 24005’s view. Glasses Man had his usual wicked smirk, though his eyes were alight with… glee? Why was Glasses Man happy? Had he figured something out?

 

Once 24005 was situated, Glasses Man brought the mystery person into view. 24005’s heart began racing, his mouth running dry.

 

“Mama,” he croaked, trying to reach out for her despite his restraints.

 

“Alles ist in Ordnung,” the woman said, voice shaky. “Alles ist in Ordnung.”

 

“Mama,” 24005 repeated, eyes shifting to Glasses Man in fear.

 

“Wonderful. You remember her,” Glasses Man nodded, grinning like a shark. “That makes this easier for me then.”

 

Glasses Man produced that coin, the same coin he always forced 24005 to move without touching it. He showed it to 24005 before placing it on the ground at Mama’s feet.

 

“Now, on the count of three, you will move the coin,” Glasses Man ordered, a hand disappearing into his jacket pocket. From his pocket, he withdrew a small pistol and aimed it directly at Mama’s heart.

 

24005 concentrated on the coin more intensely than he’d ever done before, desperate to save Mama.

 

“ Alles ist in Ordnung, Erik,” Mama said, tears running down her cheeks. “ Alles ist in Ordnung, ich glaube an dich.”

 

“One,” Glasses Man declared, watching the coin. 24005 struggled, small noises of determination floating through the air.

 

“Two.”

 

The coin wasn’t moving, not even a millimetre. 24005 made a pained noise, doing his best to move the coin before Glasses Man got to three.

 

“Three.”

 

Glasses Man pulled the trigger, the tiny bullet ripping through the silence as it tore through Mama’s chest. 24005 didn’t know who screamed more, him or Mama.

 

24005 experienced rage for the second time in that moment. This rage was absolute and blinding, almost literally making 24005 see flames in his vision.

 

All of a sudden, the coin flew off the floor. It made no noise as it sailed closer and closer to Glasses Man, who simply caught the coin.

 

The restraints holding 24005 broke apart, allowing him to step onto the floor and approach Glasses Man. Despite being a sickly-thin eight year old boy, 24005’s face radiated pure hatred.

 

“Are you satisfied?” 24005 spat, in a rare fit of defiance. “Is this what you wanted?”

 

“It is more than I could’ve wished for,” Glasses Man grinned as 24005’s control on the metals in the room faded to a halt. Due to the strain of his intense outburst, 24005 blacked out, falling to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry these initial chapters are so short and weird. I'm trying out a completely different writing style here, and a different narrative too. The lack of character names is also intentional. That's me trying to imagine how a young child would retain memories when put in a situation like 24005, and how they would remember people's names. Names are going to be introduced slowly, and thus so will character tags.


	4. A Boy and a Soldier

After his initial outburst, 24005 quickly learned how to summon his abilities only when he was ordered to. Any other time saw him sent to the chair, and he hated the chair. They placed something over his head, sending stinging pain into his head and making it fuzzy. After the chair, 24005 felt hollow, as if he’d lost part of himself. It became harder and harder to remember what life was like before the War, memories turning into blackness and smoke.

 

One date that 24005 remembered for the longest time was March 10th, 1944. It had started out as any other day since his training began had, until 24005 was taken to somewhere new instead of his next training session. Skeleton Man was hovering around another table, not dissimilar to 24005’s own table. There was a man strapped to the table whose face seemed familiar to 24005. How did he know this man?

 

Skeleton Man turned when he heard Glasses Man clear his throat, his shark-line grin widening.

 

“Ah, Klaus. Perfect timing,” Skeleton Man nodded. _So that was Glasses Man’s name_ , 24005 thought. “Sgt. Barnes has just been sedated. He is ready for examination. I will handle 24005 while you work.”

 

Klaus nodded. He stepped towards the table, towards Sgt. Barnes. _Why was that name familiar?_ 24005 frowned.

 

Skeleton Man approached 24005, forcing him to stand at attention. “Klaus has informed me of your progress. I would like to see for myself.”

 

24005 nodded quickly, allowing Skeleton Man to lead him to the training room. 24005 followed, sweat forming on the back of his neck. Skeleton Man hadn’t watched him train before. What if he didn’t think 24005 was well-trained? What if he did think he was well-trained? It was all ‘what if’ scenarios in 24005’s mind.

 

Training started immediately after 24005 entered the room. He fell into his usual routine, deflecting the metal projectiles and obstacles as usual, tuning out everything around him that wasn’t part of the training routine. He felt his powers coursing through him, like liquid fire in his veins.

 

Skeleton Man stood by the closed door, analysing 24005 as he moved. His movements were fluid and agile, better than most of HYDRA’s top agents that had trained for years longer than this boy. His powers seemed to come effortlessly to him, as if he was born with them instead of given them forcefully. He showed no emotion other than determination, his expression blank and cold. Skeleton Man nodded his approval to himself, waiting for the session to come to an end.

 

Once the session was finished, Skeleton Man took 24005 back to Klaus and Sgt. Barnes, smirking triumphantly.

 

“He is ready, brother,” Skeleton Man stated, making Klaus turn and grin. “As for the sergeant?”

 

“von Strucker has begun construction of a prosthetic to compensate for the limb he lost in the fall,” Klaus informed him. “He has not yet woken, but he is beginning to stabilize.”

 

“Wonderful,” Skeleton Man nodded. “Which material has he chosen to use?”

 

“He believes an alloy of the two would be far stronger than either one solely,” Klaus stated.

 

“I had not considered that,” Skeleton Man muttered. “Has he estimated how long it will take?”

 

“With his best team, no more than two days,” Klaus said.

 

“Keep Sgt. Barnes under constant supervision once he wakes,” Skeleton Man ordered. “I do not want him to escape.”

 

“Zola has already volunteered,” Klaus said. “He wishes to begin his work while the sergeant is unable to react physically.”

 

“I’ll allow it,” Skeleton Man decided. “As for you, 24005 is ready for the next stage.”

 

That didn’t sound good to 24005. What was the next stage? What was going to happen to him? The grin that spread across Klaus’ face unsettled 24005 further, a ball of dread settling in his chest.

 

“Come along, 24005,” Klaus grinned. “We have much to do.”


	5. The Beginning of the End of Loneliness

24005’s routines changed again. His morning training was replaced with the chair, followed by solo training, then training with the Asset. 24005 was the trainer when with the Asset. He was to teach the Asset to deflect his powers from controlling his prosthetic arm, as it was a metallic alloy that was highly magnetic.

 

Training the Asset was more difficult than 24005 had anticipated. It wasn’t that the Asset wasn’t trying. Both the Asset and 24005 were ritually sent to the chair, coming out with black and smokey minds. Sometimes, the chair did something wrong that made them both forget the day’s training, which set them back trying to relearn whatever they’d accomplished.

 

As Klaus and Skeleton Man decided that 24005 and the Asset were ready, they were sent away from the base for ‘missions’. 24005 was given a new name, an alias to use when out of the base:

 

Magneto.

 

The name felt… right, as if he were meant to carry that name. 24005 was a number, part of a larger set of nameless and faceless prisoners. Magneto was a title, a name for the faceless boy stolen from his life. He was no longer just part of a set; he was an individual again, despite the number forever scarred into his arm.

 

The Asset became the Winter Soldier, HYDRA’s second-best weapon. He was the pride and joy of the organization, their perfect ruthless killer. His mind was rewired to only listen to orders. He had no free will, no sense of person. He was a machine trapped in a man’s body.

 

Magneto still clung to one single memory, one single phrase. The rest of his mind was black smoke, his thoughts no longer his own. He was HYDRA’s best weapon, their greatest success. He knew no other life beyond HYDRA, no other way of life but killing. However, that one phrase was always at the back of his mind, no matter how many times he was put in the chair.

 

_Schlaf Kindchen schlaf. Der Vater hüt't die Schaf. Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein. Da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf Kindchen schlaf._

 

He’d long since forgotten where he’d learned the song, and had half-forgotten the translations of the phrase. Despite being raised and trained by Germans, Magneto had been moved to Russia alongside the Winter Soldier, thus requiring him to speak Russian to his handlers. He’d had to learn many languages for the purpose of transfers, so his native German had faded to the back of his mind.

 

However, Magneto didn’t have much time for thinking about the phrase. He was far too occupied with missions and training to worry about it. Klaus was preparing him for an important mission, a recruitment mission. Magneto hadn’t met any other people on his previous missions; they were simply infiltration and espionage. Now, he was being given the order to find a _person_ , to bring them back to the base. Magneto was giddy at the prospect of a new training partner; he’d trained the Winter Soldier, he knew all of his techniques. It got boring, fighting him. A new recruit meant an element of surprise for a few weeks.

 

As the date of the mission drew near, Klaus pressed Magneto beyond his limits. His Mission (as he’d begun referring to his target) was apparently going to be a formidable adversary if provoked, so Magneto needed to be ready for anything. He was subject to more rounds of torture from the mysterious source that had given him his powers, in Klaus’ hopes of enhancing them further.

 

Finally, the day had arrived. Magneto was escorted to England, a place he vaguely recalled from previous missions. He was left in a secluded wooded area with his instructions, gear, and a name written on a piece of paper:

 

Charles Xavier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the chapter title sucks and that the chapter is so short. I promise that the next part of the series is gonna be more eventful, I was just having trouble figuring out how to describe Erik's time with HYDRA without sounding boring and repetitive.


End file.
